Beautiful Dreamer
by Silver Vaporeon
Summary: a short story dealing with Butch's past: and of the distruction a gun and his best friend created. *dedicated to everyone who suffered in any way from a shooting; slightly based on a video i saw*


There have been way too many hate crimes out there and too many people have been killed and hurt

There have been way too many hate crimes out there and too many people have been killed and hurt. But there have also been many accidents. Guns are evil things. The people you shoot never come back. Life is not perfect and that's the way it will always be. So love thy neighbor, please? This story is dedicated to all killed, hurt or related to in shootings.   
~Silver Vaporeon (bookwormz98@yahoo.com) 

*******

"Come on, no one will ever know…" he said, trying to make me give in.   
"No…" I said. I knew it was risky. And I knew it was dangerous. "Anything can happen"   
"What are you? A chicken?" 

"So?" I asked out loud. Cassidy thought I was talking to her through the cement wall. 

"The latest plan to break out of here? All right, Plan #34 to break out of here is…me to distract a prison guard (who can resist me?) and you grab his gun and threaten to blow his head off if he doesn't lead us out of here!" she giggled, happy about her plan. I swear, the prison food has affected her brain. 

My heart and stomach both took a fifty-story plunge. "Gun? Blow his head off?" 

"Yes, Butch. Guns and threating. It's the only Team Rocket way. Besides, they took away our shovels and all." 

Guns…the hateful object that… I clutched my head, tears threatening to spill. 

Beautiful Dreamer 

nine years ago….. 

My father was stern and his grotesic outer-features would scare the stripes off a growlithe. But he was a kind-hearted man. All I knew back then was that he was part of Team Rocket and was caught in a blast of harmful gases, which permanently altered his appearance. Ok, so he was a kind-hearted man who stole pokèmon and delivered sixteen death threats everyday. What is there to say? He was my old man. 

One bright sunny day, he was outside in the yard and found a large red glossy marble. As he picked it up, I watched from the window and saw how pretty it was when it caught the morning spring light. He smiled and headed inside.   
I turned my head and saw Sundance run up to him happily. My father scooped him up and whirled him about. He wasn't really named Sundance, his real name was Cole(named after a western bandit, just like I was). But, he was so full of happiness and sunshine, everyone called him Sundance or just plain Sunny. Sunny didn't know how to hate and that was why he was so cheerful. He was only about five or six when it happened. 

I scoffed at the happy display. Hey, I was twelve and thought I was too grown up for that kid-stuff. 

"Guess what I got you!" my father smiled as he placed Sundance down. 

"What, Dad?" Sundance's big brown eyes gleamed with pleasure. His golden hair glistened in the sunlight. My father reached in his pocket and brought out the marble I had seen him find earlier. 

"Thank you, Daddy!" and with that, he placed a big kiss on my father's rough bearded cheek and went to play happily in the corner with his new toy. 

"Hey, Butch!" my father called me over. 

"What's up, Pop?" I asked, slinking over to him.   
He slapped me on the back playfully and I gave a weak grin. 

"Son, I'll be going out on a small mission, so watch over your little kid brother for me, ok?" 

"Sure, Pop." 

My father thanked me and headed out the door. I turned on my GameStation and started playing a video game. Soon after, my best friend, Young, came over. 

"Yo, Butch," he said as he came through the door and helped himself to some cookies. He was so close to me that we just behaved as we would at each other's houses. 

"Yo, Young," I replied, not looking up from my video game. Dang, I only needed one more… "YES! Take that, Slugamester!" I did a small victory dance, happy to finally beat the whole game. 

"Whooptee-doo, man. You wanna do something fun now?" Young ripped open a big of chips and started cramming them into his mouth. He chewed noisily, chip crumbs falling out of his mouth like snowflakes. 

He swallowed and then said, "I saw your old man walk off. You'd think he left anything around…illegal?" 

"No clue," I replied, shutting off the GameStation. 

"Then lets have a look, Butch!" he grabbed me by the arm, still eating his chips and dragged me into my father's office. 

"Hey! Daddy said never to go in there!" Sundance warned as we passed him. 

"Shut it, Sunny," Young said. 

"Yeah. Zip it, stupid," I added. 

Sunny shut his trap, glowering. We should have listened…   
"So this is your old man's office?" Young asked. "COOL!" 

He started rummaging though a few drawers and found a bunch of keys on a key chain. He flipped through them and eventually found one that fit the lock on the suspicious looking large filing cabinet in the corner. 

"Wait, he always warned he'd beat the tar outta me if I so much touch that cabinet," I warmed. Young turned and looked at me. 

"Did he ever tell you that there's nothing you can't do?" he fit the key in and unlocked it. The drawer slid open and Young reached in. 

"Whoa…" in his hand was the coolest looking gun both of us had ever seen. Of course, we never really knew names of the guns back then so we just decided it was a cool looking hand gun. It was sleek and shiny, like a new toy. I guess I shouldn't have been so mezmerized by it; I've seen plenty of high-tech guns my father took with him on his trips. But this was the only gun I've actually held. I liked it. I reached in the drawer and found some bullets that fit. 

"Yo, Butch. Why don't we go and shoot off a few rounds somewhere? My old man taught me how to fire a gun. No one would ever know!" 

"Well…" I was debating weither to follow him or my father's warnings. 

"Come on, no one will ever know…" he said, trying to make me give in. 

"No…" I said. I knew it was risky. And I knew it was dangerous. "Anything can happen" 

"What are you? A chicken?" 

I recoiled. "No one EVER calls me a chicken. Lets go." 

We passed Sundance on our way out, who was still playing with that dumb marble. 

***** 

"Come on! Give it to me!" I yelled. Young shot off a few more bullets in the empty warehouse. The echoes bounced forever in the void. There were only a few bullets left and Young never let me handle the gun, saying I didn't know how to handle it. 

"You'd probably take both our heads off," he had reasoned. 

"GIVE IT!" I lunged and we squabbled over the gun. Amazingly, the gun didn't discharge like in the movies. We heard voices from outside and so we ran for our bikes hidden in the bushes and we took off. 

About a mile later, we happened to pass by old man Thompson who ran a small store in our town. He was the crankiest, meanest person we knew and didn't like kids too much.   
We decided to stop there and rest a bit.   
"HEY!" we soon heard his familiar voice. "No loitering!". I checked my watch. We had only stopped for three minutes…what an idiot. 

"Go on or buy something! Don't dawdle in front of the store!" Thompson clearly wasn't having a good day. 

We went in, hoping he'd shut up. But we "took too much time" deciding which candy to buy. I was so mad. We were the only costumers in the store and he acted as if there was a whole line behind us! 

"All right, get out," he spat, starting to get from behind the counter to chase us out. Young whipped out the gun and pointed at his head. Thompson froze. He reached down for something, maybe another gun or a button to alert Officer Jenny. 

"Uh uh," Young said. He cocked the gun. 

"Take anything you want," Thompson was shaking. It scared me. But still, we had authority over HIM for once. It was an unavoidable feeling of joy..but there was an unavoidable fear about this new power. His request caught Young by surprise though.   
"Umm…give me all your candy! And some baseball cards! And maybe some cigarettes." 

"But you're underage, I can't possibly-" 

Young took a step closer. "Well, dead men can't sell anything, can they?" 

Thompson put the requested items in a bag and we took it. 

"You know you aren't going to get away with this?" Thompson said. 

"Dead men tell no tales." Young pressed the barrel on the man's forehead and pulled the trigger. 

_Click_

Young laughed like a maniac and we both left the old man in shock. 

***** 

"Where have you been?" Sundance asked. He was on the kitchen counter, fingering his marble. 

"None of your business, Sunny," I said. "But we got some candy an' stuff and we'll share or something'. 

"Okay." 

"Can you believe that idiot? He thought the thing was loaded! That was cool," Young gloated. 

"Come on, I'll clean the table and we'll split the stuff, but after that, you have to give the gun back to me. My dad is going to be so pissed." 

"Fine," he said. I turned my back. 

I heard him imitate the part where we freaked old man Thomson. He was probably telling Sunny what had happened. 

"Dead men tell no tales," he said. The gun suddenly fired. 

I whirled around. My heart stopped as what I saw next happened in slow motion. 

A red marble fell like a cold stone to the ground…. 

A smoking gun hit the carpet…. 

****** 

Cole "Sundance" died later that day. The bullet had pierced him in the heart; Young never knew the gun was still loaded. My father was devastated and he disappeared a week later. No one knows where he went or what he did. I was left alone to defend for myself. 

As for me….well, I think back to that brother of mine; happy and carefree. His life ended so fast, like a flickering candle flame- a happy flame that never knew how to hate. I still live on, but still so empty inside. Young ran off that day, and never came back. That slimeball- 

"BUTCH?!" Cassidy called. I had not responded for a while and she thought I had dozed off or something. "The guard is coming to let us out for dinner. Get ready." 

I sighed, hoping to reason with Cassidy later. 

"Come on, idiot-" the guard stared at me. I stared back we both withdrew in shock. 

"YOUNG?!" I croaked. 

"BUTCH?! What the hell are you doing here?!" Young was so surprised that he started drawing out his gun.   
Not again, you slime! Never again! 

Immediately, I grabbed for his gun and pinned him to the ground. 

"You son of a- I'll so kill you for what you did!" I screamed with fury. 

"Butch! What is going on?" Cassidy's distant voice seemed concerned. Never in our partner relationship, had she seen me so distraught or emotional. 

"Butch, please…" Young begged. I took the gun, cocked it and aimed for his head. 

"Butch! We have to move!" Cassidy said, eyeing around the halls. 

I wouldn't heed. I could finally avenge Sundance's death…my family's suffering would be over…my finger tensed up on the trigger. Young's gray eyes were squeezed shut, waiting for the end to come. 

I suddenly relaxed and flung the gun away. I kicked Young in the chin when he didn't respond. Young looked at me in surprise. 

"Even the likes of you…I'll spare you…so you may live with the shame and guilt of what you've done to my family and you have all your life to think about it," I said, walking away from him. 

I know Young was probably staring at me the whole time Cassidy and me ran down the hall and into the sewer system, appearing again about 2 miles outside the prison. As Cassidy and I took our first breath of freedom for a long time, I remember Sundance. I also remembered Young, that rude once-best friend I had; and wondered why I let him live. It was because of Sundance; who loved instead of hated and forgave instead of holding grudges; and even he wouldn't want Young to die for his mistake. He was always such a dreamer.   
I had expected Young to try to stop us.   
But he never said a word; and that's how it should and always will be. 


End file.
